


The Familiarity of Things

by CharbroilLaFlamme



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Inspired by Music, Last Man Standing, Non-Graphic Violence, religious reference, use of guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharbroilLaFlamme/pseuds/CharbroilLaFlamme
Summary: Another story inspired by a song—Happenings Ten Years Time Ago by the Yardbirds.





	The Familiarity of Things

**Author's Note:**

> I have the story ready and written but I’ll be putting it up after I leave work! Promise!  
> *Update: Turns out I’m working till closing so I’ll just put it up now to save y’all the trouble.

It had been about three hours since Dell had last seen or heard anyone.  
He was all alone like he preferred, with his thoughts and solitude.  
But it was loneliness without relief. And that feeling he hated—displacement. Like he didn’t belong where he was.

And he didn’t.

He reloaded his shotgun, remembering that he was standing over the milling wall of zombies beside his posse of around six sentry guns that were blasting the undead back.  
Dell discharged a few shotgun shells into the crowd, hoping he hit something. He grimaced, he’d only had so much ammunition. Only so much.

He wanted to go out how all heroes did. He didn’t want to just lie down and die.

But if he did, he’d probably just crawl back from the depths.

“That’s right, I ain’t gonna be an easy kill, you _mother_ —“  
A loud groan from below rose to him and silenced him. He aimed his shotgun down and released two blasts into the fray after a few seconds.

He had desperately promised he’d make the dead men pay for making even more dead men. And he had definitely returned the favour tenfold, but now it was for himself—that bloodlust fuelling his rampage still.

It was cathartic. He knew if he died he wasn’t going anywhere like Heaven—he was going somewhere—but not Heaven.  
Something about loving thy neighbour.

But what if your neighbour was trying to tear you limb from limb and eat your heart?

He was getting tired, and the world was plunged still in a shadow that felt heavier than most darknesses did. The moon fought with the clouds.

He propped his gun on a wall and sat on the lawn chair he had set up just for this, in front of a fold-up card table serving as his work desk. “Hey, would y’all like some tunes?” He said into the masses of dead.

A cacophony of groans replied. It sounded like the worst choir to ever exist. “Thought you might,” he picked up a big ole box with a telescoping antenna on top. He shrugged as he set it up on his card table. “I know we don’t know each other all too well,” he said while he twiddled the knob left and right, “But maybe we got off on the wrong foot, y’know? Maybe we could talk it out.

An isolated moan rose from the crowd.  
“I mean, I could just let ya get me, but I ain’t too keen on that, ya hear me?” He said to them. “Till then, this is gonna be one helluva stalemate.”

They all groaned again, Dell laughed incredulously.

“Y’all... you guys are _terrible_ conversational partners.”  
The radio let out a faint, fuzzy white noise. “Ah! There we go.” Dell said. “‘Bout time.” He gently cranked the volume up.  
He sat back down as the radio man chattered, Dell didn’t catch any of his words.  
He reloaded his shotgun and tapped his foot as he hummed along with the song playing—one by the Yardbirds.

 _Meeting people on my way_  
_Seemingly I’ve known one day_  
_Familiarity of things_  
_That my dreaming always brings..._

**Author's Note:**

> That feel when your entire team drops in MVM Ghost Town.


End file.
